


Hung Out To Dry

by ticklishivories



Category: Homestuck
Genre: College AU, Established Relationship, M/M, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 00:23:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3589368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ticklishivories/pseuds/ticklishivories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a long day at school, Jake doesn't look forward to coming home to a messy house and an unhelpful partner. But Dirk is being strangely kind, and he can't place why. Either it's a prank, or Jake has forgotten an incredibly important date! Why can't he just take a nap and be done with it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hung Out To Dry

**Author's Note:**

> this was a commission for akoiromanticjakeenglish on tumblr! thank you so much, i really enjoyed writing this.
> 
> if you're interested in commissions, you can message me on my tumblr at ticklishivories.tumblr.com

 

When you were small, you and your grandmother always did chores together. She’d wash dishes, and you’d dry them. She would fold the laundry after you hooked it and dried it on the clothing lines (you had to use a ladder to reach it!). Afterwards, she’d make you dinner, and you’d serve the table. Chores were fun, then.

Dirk almost never helps you out. Things like dishes, laundry, and dinner are your household duties, and you find it enormously more challenging to complete on your own. It annoys you to no end to see him napping or typing lazily on his laptop while you scrub the grime away off of plates. You suppose that it’s less of a disaster than if he were to actually help; you’re still trying to clean the mess he left in the microwave after lasagna night.

But you suppose he pulls his weight. The house is mostly spotless, except for the bedroom. You don’t know why but he has some sort of tic against making the bed, and putting his various tinkering tools back where they belong (in the basement- that’s where they belong, but somehow you always manage to roll over onto the harsh end of a screw driver). He brings in money with his projects, he occasionally does the dishes, and on nights when you can’t lift a finger he tucks you in bed and looks over your homework for you.

Today is different, though. Your appreciation for Dirk’s ‘help’ is thinning. You feel wrung out and left to dry on a wire. Your backpack is filled with bricks and the weight of it is bruising your shoulders, the film on your glasses is making your eyes water, and the bottom of your feet drag heavier than concrete blocks. The couch in the living room beckons to you, and you hear it whispering lewdly for you to sit on it and forget all your work, but you have clothes to fold, dinner to start, and more stress weighing down your brain than the textbooks in your bag.

On days like these, you really miss your grandmother.

The door to your house is unlocked. Already your irritation raises a notch. Dirk was supposed to lock it after you left this morning. You toss your backpack on the kitchen table and stomp into the living room, ready to give _someone_ and earful, but immediately you notice that something is amiss.

The door to the back porch is open, allowing warm sunlight to slant across the coffee table and couch. You stare out the door at the clothing line, which from it hangs actual clothes and linen towels. They waver in the gentle summer wind that blows in to the living room. The TV is off, and there are no sounds of metal grinding on metal from the basement. You think that, if you lied down on the couch now, it would be no different than lying on the cool grass outside.

“Dirk?” you call into the silence. Nothing answers but a bird’s little tweet.

Dirk must have done the laundry and gone out for a walk. What a kind gesture- your irritation simmers down and you turn to the couch where you have decided to rest. But obtruding the space, to your surprise, is your boyfriend, lying with his forearm slung over his eyes and his other hand draped on the floor.

He’s a pretty thing, Dirk is; his thin lips are parted as he breathes through them, and his chin is raised proudly even in sleep. In the light, the freckles on his arms shine through like cinnamon sprinkled over vanilla cream.

You really don’t care anymore. The bedroom seems like a thousand mile journey from this very inviting couch in this very comfortable room, and Dirk isn’t so much an obstacle as an extra set of pillows filled with pointy elbows instead of feathers. You step over him, one arm beside his head, and the other steadying you by his torso. Carefully, without disturbing him, you lower yourself onto Dirk’s body.

You’re ready to sleep in seconds. The sun coming in from the open door warms the backs of your legs. Soft, steady breathing and a gentle heartbeat against your ear makes you smile. You let out a long sigh, and close your eyes.

Just as you’re about to fall asleep, slow and heavy arms come across your back. Dirk’s chest rises and falls as he sighs deeply. “When did you get home?”

Your mouth barely moves. “A moment ago. You left the door unlocked, you know.”

“Oh, sorry.” The pad of his thumb swipes rhythmically over your shoulder. “Rough day?”

“Yes…” You burrow more into his chest, and his arms hug you more solidly. “My midterm didn’t go as well as I planned.”

“Even after all that studying?” He scoffs. “You should’ve aced that shit.”

“Oh, I know…but I get so darn nervous while taking tests I can’t keep my thinking cap on straight.”

You don’t want to talk about school. Dirk understands; your mind follows the path of his thumb as it moves upwards to rub lazy circles into your neck.

“Did you see that I did the laundry?”

“Yes.”

“I also did the dishes.”

“Terrific, now I’ll have twice the mess to clean up.”

Dirk snickers quietly, and reassures you that you won’t have to wash them again. Most of the chores are done, the house is clean, and he doesn’t have any work to do till tomorrow. You ask him why he’s being so kind, and hope that you haven’t forgotten some important anniversary.

He only shrugs. “You’ve been working hard all week. You deserve a break.” Then, Dirk pulls you closer and kisses the crown of your head. “I’m proud of you.”

You can’t help opening your eyes. You lift your head up to meet his gaze, half lidded and without shades, and smirk. “Well you’re in a dandy mood. What’s the occasion?”

He shakes his head and pulls you closer; the back of his neck lies on the armrest and you look down at him from above, so close that his warm breath touches your mouth. You purse your lips and he briefly presses his to yours.

“…No reason. You worked really hard, and you deserve some recognition.” He kisses you again, and now slightly suspicious, you push yourself up on your arms and stare at him with a raised eyebrow while he smiles innocently back at you. He might as well be wearing shades; you can’t read him at all.

“You’re up to something. Tell me what’s going through that noggin of yours.”

Dirk’s hands press flat to your back. You can feel the point of each individual finger as he slowly drags them down to the end of your shirt, where a dark sliver of skin is exposed. The tips barely graze your sun-warmed skin and still it makes you shiver. “I want to have sex.” The tilt of his mouth falls a little. “You game?”

Your surprise fades into a smug grin. Of course- you should have guessed it yourself. You ease down onto his body again, enjoying the closeness of your chests pressed together, and close your eyes as if he hadn’t said a word. “Sorry, but I’m too tired to satisfy your rigorous standards. Maybe after a nap?”

“Kind of just wanted to treat you.” His fingers tickle with how lightly they graze, before he slips them under your shirt. He’s being such a sweetheart; you’d be worried he was pranking you if he wasn’t asking for a sex favor. How typical of him.

You huff out, and after a thought, lean up to murmur against his neck. “All right. If you manage to stir me enough, I’ll return the favor.”

“You got a deal.”

He helps you sit up to rearrange. Now you’re at about fifty-fifty wanting for both sleep and sex, and it shows in the redness in your eyes and on your cheeks. Without hesitation you roll over to lie on your back, drowsy and a bit giggly. Dirk takes a couple pillows and places one under your head and another under your bum. He then flops on top of you, supporting himself on his elbows as his dark stare flickers from your eyes to your mouth.

There’s something in his eyes; some sort of glint, or thought stuck in the corner. The way he’s staring, intense, focused, and so determined to just look at you makes the flirtatious bubbles in your stomach fizz straight into your heart. You’re caught staring at the red cut on his lip, not his pair of hazelnut ambers. He adjusts himself above you, careful and slow; you realize that something’s very different about the way he’s moving.

“Jake,” he says, quietly. You are raptly attentive. The air between your faces is strung tight, but he never kisses you. His hand comes up to stroke the side of your face. He removes your spectacles. Your chest feels heavy.

He bends down to kiss you right under your eye; your eyelash tickles his nose. “You’ve worked hard.” He’s kissing the dark circles. Your breath catches. “I’m so proud.”

“Dirk, why are you…” You wind you arms around his neck and pull him down. Your thighs hug his hips. “…Why are you being so unfathomably sweet?”

“Want to.” He buries his head in the crook of your neck. You tilt towards the dampness of his mouth. “You deserve this. Every bit of it- and more. I don’t say that enough. I don’t show you enough, how I see you, and how you should see yourself.”

Your face burns, and your heart feels heavy as it thumps in vulnerable shivers. You’re no longer tired in the slightest, and you want more than anything for him to keep speaking those caramel coated words to you. Dirk lifts himself to kiss your lips, and it’s with such reverence you’re caught off guard; your legs squeeze his hips and you grasp his hair in desperate tangles between your fingers. When he parts to look at you again, your lips chase after him. He stares at you, hard. Everything is still, even the breeze that’s died away to hear him speak.

“You’re gorgeous.”

The breath you’ve been holding comes out in a single crushing rush. You gasp to get it back and cling to him. He keeps talking to you as his hands roam down your chest, pushing up your shirt and grazing his nails over your ribs.

“You’re gorgeous, Jake, you are. I can’t believe you’re with me. I don’t deserve you, doll…”

You can’t stop gasping; the amount of air you’re taking in surges to your head and makes your vision spin. Your thighs tremble, open and close, squeezing Dirk between you. His nails are tickling your stomach. He knows how sensitive you are there.

“Every inch of you is perfect. Absolutely perfect, Jake, look at me, please.”

From between his thumb and forefinger he takes your chin and tilts your head up. You open your clenched eyes and find your vision blurry. Dirk is smiling, and your heart cracks open and everything you’re feeling streams powerfully through your body. In that moment, he kisses you. He floods himself into the open spaces, into your mouth, your lungs, your heart, and you can’t breathe.

“Ah, Dirk, I can’t…” You claw at your throat. It’s just in your head, you can breathe perfectly fine. It’s panic, it’s some restricting force. He is too much and he is not enough. He smashes his lips to yours, grabs your wrists and pins them above your head. You feel him throb against your crotch and you moan. His nose is cold- you focus on that soft press against your cheek, his warm tongue dancing around yours and your breath coming out in snuffs from your nostrils.

As he releases your wrists you find them bound, but you don’t mind. Your nipple is in his mouth and you’re sweating in the shirt bundled at your armpits.

“Perfect,” he murmurs against your chest, and wanders down your ribs. Your body lifts towards his and your legs fall apart. “Gorgeous.”

“Dirk, w-what on earth has g…” Your voice cracks. His saliva that you tasted only a moment ago is already dried up. You lick your lips. “…Gotten into you?”

“Nothing. Just you. You’ve finally gotten to me, dude. I can’t take it anymore.” There’s laughter in his tone but you only feel embarrassment. He’s impossibly gentle, yet maddeningly arousing. Dirk almost never compliments you like this, it’s always him saying ‘Tell me you love me’ or some other nonsense. Your cheeks flush cherry red and your lips press into a tight line. He finds your belly button, and lets the tip of his tongue run along the rim.

_“Oh!”_

Your stomach quivers and you cry out. He pins you by the hips and holds you down as his tongue slips inside. Your unrestricted, pathetic groans gets a chuckle out of him that vibrates against your skin. His lips suck, his tongue dips in and out mockingly. Dirk breathes cool air on his spit and leans down to nip the fat starting at your happy trail.

“I’m going to finger you, okay?”

The breath is knocked out of you again, and as you reel from his statement Dirk sits up. His hand cups you through your trousers. He fondles the outline of you cock and his name blurts out of your mouth.

“Please, Dirk, I’m in _agony…_ ” You grind back into his hand. Dirk hovers over you, kisses the corner of your mouth, down across your chin and the soft tissue of your flushed neck.

“That’s good, right?”

_“Yes,”_ you hiss.

“Good.”

The heat of the sun is probably getting to you. Your head is swimming, your breath is too short, and your pants cling to your sticky skin as Dirk drags them down your legs. The incredible warmth you feel in your chest when he looks at you, and kisses you, _must_ be from the sun. You hum against him and when he smiles back you feel it. His hand dips into your boxers, and pulls them down.

“Ah,” you sigh. His thumb teases your tip, pressing down and smearing the wetness around the head. You’re tense all over and as he’s kissing your lips again and again he spills words into your ears like honey in milk.

Every time his thumb rubs the underside, and pushes up, your ribcage tightens. Somewhere in between him telling you how sexy you are and how turned on by you he is, he’s grabbed lube from inside the cushions. You hear the metal scrape of his zipper and open your eyes just to watch.

What you see first is his blond hair jutting out from your neck. It moves and bobs as he sucks marks into your skin. His nips are sweeter and softer than his words, and it’s melting you, feels like you’re being coated in sex and sugar. You glance down, and see his dick, hanging heavily from his boxers. He points the dark head towards you as he strokes himself, and you swallow and close your eyes. Dirk says something that hits a nerve and your dick leaks onto your stomach.

“ _Please_ , Dirk…” You can’t say what you want exactly, but he looks at you, kisses you, and understands.

“Sure thing, doll."

A warm finger touches your opening. Only barely, though; you dig your teeth into your lip and grind against his hand. His laughter ghosts across your cheek.

“Patience, Jake.”

“Mh.” Your brows furrow. “Dirk, could you please untie me? I want to…”

“Yeah.”

Your binds come undone. You realize he used a bowtie from one of your job interview suits. Immediately your arms come around him and hug him close. Your bare knee slots between his legs, and he sighs, and rolls his hips into you.

His finger circles your opening twice, then slips in. Your head rolls back and your back arches off the couch. “Y-You trimmed your nails?”

“Just for you.”

Dirk’s finger presses in to the knuckle. To distract yourself, you slide your hands under his shirt and savor the heat of his wide back. You like how it feels when his shoulder blades move, and when his muscles contract and stretch like the finger inside you. It thrusts like slow ocean waves, rushing in and calmly receding, and you get the idea he’s not prepping you for a stretch.

“You’re going to feel so good, Jake, I promise.” His other hand rests on your thigh. “Open your legs more, will you?”

Every word he utters is more gentle and caring than the last. Your stomach is a mess of soft pudding and butterflies. You’re shivering all over and your skin is rosier than the pink flush of Dirk’s cheeks, stark against his white skin and amber eyes. His chin is wet from slobbering all over your neck, but you accept his kiss gladly, and pour all of your passion and embarrassment into the movements of your lips and tongue as his finger curls inside you.

Dirk finds your prostate, and he knows the second you jolt against him. But, rather than tease you with it like he always does, his finger presses against it, and doesn’t release. Your forehead begins to perspire and you pant heavily into his mouth.

But then he has to grab your cock with his hand, his wet, lubricated hand that he used to rub himself, and pumps you in time with how quickly he jabs that spot inside you. You cry out so loudly you swear a few birds fly away outside in annoyance.

Dirk’s finger swirls around it repeatedly, never releasing pressure, and his tongue does the same in your mouth and your head is spinning, you’re losing control of your breathing again and you just wish you’d stop moaning so you could hear him speak to you, hear him say these words that you might not ever hear again, and you want to savor it, before-

“I love you, Jake.”

His finger digs in you and doesn’t release, his hand squeezes the tip of you cock and smudges the slit one last time, and he breathes those words into your ear, moans your name, and you come so hard you can’t even breathe his name back.

As you come around, you blearily watch Dirk finish. He shivers and sighs, and lays himself over you with a lazy groan. Your sweaty skin sticks together. For now, you’re too tired to bother.

You hold him against your chest. The sun is beginning to set, and the humidity of the day is fading into the coolness of evening. You think he might be falling asleep, so you nudge him.

“Hey there,” you say. He shifts slightly. “I just have to ask, or it’ll be nitpicking at me all night.”

“Hm?” His voice is just as gravelly as yours.

“What was all this for? It’s not that I don’t appreciate it. I mean, I’m terribly appreciative, especially about the laundry and dishes, but why?” You feel a bit nervous when he doesn’t respond right away. You pray he's not upset about any possible forgetfulness.

“I wanted to. That’s why.” He pauses. “And, around this time of year, you always get a little bummed out. You know.”

“Oh.” Right, the end of spring. It was around this time that your grandmother parted, so many years ago.

You grin softly, and sneak in a stroke through his hair. He doesn’t say another word. You whisper a thank you, quietly kiss his forehead, and fall asleep shortly after the sun vanishes behind the horizon.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> here's the link to my commissions info http://ticklishivories.tumblr.com/tagged/commissions
> 
> sorry about the long urls, i don't know how to link stuff here haha
> 
> thanks for reading!!


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